Hope
by Deandra
Summary: Eomer’s friends share their perspective on his wife and his son. Fluffy little ONESHOT. Part 81 of the Elfwine Chronicles.


_**Part 81 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.**_

_**A/N: Oooo! Lots of kidlings at Church today, and plenty of opportunity for me to witness father/son interactions. This story had been in the back of my mind for a bit now, and I guess seeing that inspired me to sit down and write it.**_

**Hope**

**(Aug, 4 IV)**

The men lounged in chairs around Eomer's desk, relaxing over a tankard of ale. As Marshal of the East-mark, Elfhelm was not often around Edoras, so on his infrequent visits, Eomer, Eothain and Gamling took the occasion to sit and talk privately. The men had known each other well, for a very long time. Elfhelm was senior to the others in years, but he had fought alongside all of them and knew them to be fine men. Age made little difference in a good friendship.

They had just been chuckling at some comment of Eothain's, always the one to amuse them, when they heard the study door creak and turned as one to see the cause. Apparently it had not been closed all the way, and there peeking in was Eomer's three-year-old son and heir, Elfwine.

Rising, Eomer went to the boy and scooped him up, brushing the tangled blond locks back from his face. "Should not you be in bed, little one?"

"Couldn't sleep," Elfwine murmured, burying his face in Eomer's shoulder, feeling shy in front of these men.

With a grin, Eomer kissed his head and rubbed his tiny back, suggesting, "Perhaps if you sit here with us awhile you will become sleepy. Would you like that?"

The little head nodded eagerly, always pleased to be snuggled in his father's arms. Eomer returned to his chair and the other three men eyed him approvingly.

"A fine lad, Eomer," Elfhelm saluted, raising his tankard and taking a swallow of ale.

"Aye," the others echoed, following his example.

"Aye," Eomer said also, glancing down.

"Now that you have an heir, you can relax a bit, my friend," Gamling offered.

Smiling Eomer responded, "Possibly, but I wish for many more of these, even if they only turn out half so fine as this one. I would have the Golden Hall filled with childish laughter...and I very much enjoy the process of begetting!"

The men chortled and again raised their tankards in salute, "Hear, hear!"

Noticing his son eyeing his drink, Eomer asked, "Thirsty, little one?"

At the boy's nod, he reached behind him for a jug of water and poured out a cup, then helped his son drink it. When he was done, Elfwine laid his head back against his father's chest and surveyed the other men, who were watching him with benevolent smiles.

"Do you know who these men are, Elfwine?" Eomer asked.

The boy shook his head in response, and Eomer continued, "They are my dearest friends, aside from Mama. If ever I am not around and you need something, you go to one of them and they will take care of you." His arm tightened around his son and the boy grinned shyly.

Eothain took another swallow of ale, then asked, "Do you think his hair will stay blond, or darken like Lothiriel's?"

Eomer shrugged uncaringly. "Difficult to say, but of little matter. His mother is a most handsome woman, so he will hardly suffer for resembling her."

"But he will stand out in the Mark, bearing dark tresses," Gamling observed. "Lothiriel's kinswoman, your grandmother, is not remembered kindly here. The dark hair will be a reminder."

Elfhelm shook his head sagely, saying, "I might have agreed with you early on, but I spend more time out on the Riddermark than any of you. Lady Lothiriel has left a favorable impression upon our people. All who have met her think her kind and gentle, and they readily recognize her devotion to the Mark. They think too highly of the Queen to allow a spectre from the past to overshadow her."

This unsolicited report pleased Eomer. He had wondered how the Rohirrim were reacting to Lothiriel, yet he could hardly go out and take a poll. But Elfhelm was right about the way she had with people, and her devotion to him and to the Riddermark were completely sincere. This was her home, these were her people, and she would fight to the death in their behalf.

Looking down at his son, who now was sound asleep against his chest, he realized she had left an even more favorable impression on the Mark in the form of an heir. Too long had Rohan worried and fretted over her future. This child, and hopefully more to come, would help them feel confident once more that Rohan was recovered and would boldly move forward under strong leadership.

Pushing himself up from his chair, Eomer said softly, "I will return in a moment. Let me get this little one to bed."

As he left the room, the other three looked at one another and then, without discussing it, simultaneously raised their tankards again. "To the kings!"

THE END

5-28-06

**_End note:  It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content._**


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